


Cross Bones Style

by mytimehaspassed



Category: Dexter (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-04
Updated: 2010-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytimehaspassed/pseuds/mytimehaspassed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Call me Biney,” Rudy says, his mouth ghosting across the nape of your neck, the hollow of your throat, you and your stubbled chin, he says, “Call me your brother.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross Bones Style

**CROSS BONES STYLE**  
DEXTER/SUPERNATURAL  
Dexter/Rudy; (pre-) Dexter/John  
 **WARNINGS** : AU (pre-series SPN/post-season one Dexter)

  
“Call me Biney,” Rudy says, his mouth ghosting across the nape of your neck, the hollow of your throat, you and your stubbled chin, he says, “Call me your brother.” Rudy and his thin mouth, you tell him that it’s harder than that, you and your excuses, you tell him that it’s not that easy to connect the man who almost killed your sister to the boy who spent those nights in the shipping container with you. “Fake sister,” Rudy says, his mouth and your neck, the top of your collarbone, you say, regardless, you’d rather just take baby steps. Rudy and his fingers sliding across your shoulders, down, down to the palms of your hands, Rudy and his mouth, he’s remembering you inch by inch, every little patch of skin, and you and your tight smile, the way your grit your teeth, Rudy says, “Okay.” His hands and his mouth, his teeth scraping the length of your shoulder, he says, “Take as long as you want,” his fingers, he says, “I’ve got forever.”

The funny thing is, you never believed in ghosts before this. The funny thing is, nothing in Harry’s Code ever mentioned what to do when the spirit of your dead biological brother just won’t go away, nothing Harry has every taught you dealt with this, this supernatural shit. The Internet is no help, bringing up stories of Spanish soldiers haunting the swamps of Miami, the long-lost tenets of broken down apartment buildings, all fables and fairy tales, none of them really claiming how to get rid of one, how to make one disappear. Rudy and his stupid magic tricks, he comes to you at night, floating into the edge of your vision, skating across your bed and coming to rest beside you, his hands and his mouth, all solid against your skin. You and your pliant ways, Rudy kisses the top of your cheekbone, the corner of your mouth, nudging his nose along the concaves of your skin, the outline of your brow, and you and your stupid sense of memory, he smells exactly like he used to. The funny thing is, you haven’t been able to sleep for weeks.

Rudy and his stupid sense of entitlement, his mouth, his fingers and the way you just tense up underneath his touch, his skin is almost pale enough to see through and all of this following you around, all of this showing up whenever he wants, this is seriously cramping your style. All of this haunting shit, well, you haven’t been able to make a kill since he started, since he latched on to you that first night, the night after you slit his throat. You never believed in ghosts before all of this, before Rudy, but, hey, you never believed that you had a brother, either, and, hey, you never believed that Harry would lie to you. Rudy’s story is just so tragic, just so heartbreaking, the little fucked up boy that nobody wanted, all that baggage, all those memories, Rudy is just so fucking lost, but none of this is where he’s supposed to be.

The books you check out of the library don’t tell you how to banish him, how to exorcise or eradicate or destroy, none of these books tell you how to get your life back. Rudy laughs at you when you bring them home, laughs and laughs because he knows you’re only doing this to make yourself feel like you’re doing the right thing, to stop him from picking up where he left off, slaughtering those prostitutes from the grave. He knows you’re only doing this because it’ll make your job just that much harder. Rudy and his mouth, open wide, his white teeth, there’s nothing you can do to stop him from killing anymore, no amount of sedatives in the world, no amount of bubble wrap. Rudy and his mouth, pale pink around the edges, but his skin is just so fucking white, and he’s laughing and laughing, “Now, we can do anything,” his teeth glinting in the darkness, “Now, we can kill whoever we want.”

Rudy and his kisses, he whispers, “Biney, Biney, Biney,” into your skin, punctuating each syllable with a press of his lips, with a sweep of his tongue against your shoulder, your cheek, against the corner of your eye. Rudy and the way he’ll never stop loving you, even as you scan each paperback for clues, even as you search the Internet endlessly, Rudy and the way he kisses you, well, it makes your skin shimmer and crawl. The funny thing is, the way Rudy loves you, well, as long as he’s around, you know you’ll be safe. Rudy and his mouth, his hands, the way they crawl under your covers to press against your naked skin, to spread themselves against your chest, your back, he says, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” His chin tucked inside the crease of your neck, the point where your jaw line ends, his lips against the folds of your ear, the funny thing is, you know you’ll be fine, with Rudy here, with this permanent house guest, this indulgent ghost of yours, all this baggage, all these memories, you know you’re protected.

Rudy and his mouth, well, his white teeth and the way he grins, the way he laughs at your concern, Rudy and the way that he’s just so fucking free, well, you’re just not sure about everyone else. Rudy and all of his plans, you’re just not sure how much power he holds over you, how much carnage he’s willing to perform, Rudy and the way he’s just so in love with you, he brushes his mouth against your neck and whispers into your skin, Rudy, well, Rudy says, “Now we can kill the whole world.”

***

Actually, the funny thing is, you find out about the Winchesters through Rudy. He’s by your side the day you decide to wade through the police archives, running your fingers through the cold cases, the boxes of discarded evidence, the long-dried splatters of blood caked on slides, on rusty tools, knives, the aroma of fingerprint dust coating every object. Rudy and his spiritual connection, his stupid magic tricks, well, he shimmers in and out of sight, gliding through boxes and shelves and doors, searching for pictures of crime scenes, searching for new ideas, and he’s saying, “Too bad I couldn’t come down here before,” his hand reaching through cardboard to pull out photographs of half-naked girls, bloody and dismembered. His quick intake of breath, he’s saying, “This is enough porn material to last a lifetime.”

Your steady breathing, well, you can’t say you’ve never thought about it, either. Your flushed face and the way Harry’s Code flits through your head, you’ve had years of anger management, but even Rudy’s ghost has the power to undo all of that, even Rudy’s spirit can make you forgot who you are, the things you shouldn’t do. These pictures, all these lost souls, all these tragic endings, you wonder if any of them have turned out like Rudy, trapped between two planes and annoying the shit out of their family, you wonder if any of them ever had a chance to go home, to be free. All these cold cases, they’re the hardest to figure out, less evidence, few leads, all these forgotten deaths, you’re hoping this will give you enough time to find a way to get rid of Rudy. All these lost souls, you figure this will give you enough satisfaction until then.

Rudy and his stupid magic tricks, he’s violating every box he comes into contact with, smudging each picture with his heavy breathing, his ghostly fingerprints, he’s drooling over signatures and modus operandi, searching for that one inspiration, Rudy and his mouth, he says, “I wouldn’t pick that one, they’re already working on it.” The file in your hand, this young girl, she was maybe twelve when some fucker cut her open with a knife, spliced her up real good and took her insides for later, but there’s really nothing special about it, nothing incriminating, no fingerprints or DNA, no trace of the weapon left behind. You and your stupid sense of intuition, you say, Doakes, really? You and your stupid sense of apprehension, you almost know where this is going, you almost know where Rudy’s heading with this, you and your sense of all this supernatural shit, you say, I didn’t think he worked cold cases.

Rudy and his pale skin, if you weren’t the only one who could see him, if you weren’t the only crazy one here, Rudy and the way he rolls his eyes, you’d swear he was human. You and your trepidation, you and the way he just completely fucked up your life here, made you rethink some aspects, made you believe that you really were going off the deep end, well, the way he opens his mouth, you just know that whatever’s coming is gonna be another turn for the worse. The funny thing is, here, down here in the basement of the Miami Metropolitan Police Department, down here in the archives, all these lost souls, you feel like you’re ready for anything. Rudy and the way he looks at you, his mouth, he says, “No, the Winchesters.” You and your stupid sense of perception, you say, Who? Rudy, his fingers floating across the stubble on your chin, he says, “You’ll see,” his eerie sense of foreshadowing, his creepy parlor tricks, he kisses the corner of your mouth and says, “Don’t worry,” his tight grin, he says, “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

Rudy and his ghostly knowledge, all this supernatural shit, it’s like once you die, you tap into this other world that no other human is supposed to know about, like you just instantly know everything you’ve ever wanted to know. This sad little existence of yours, you and your pet ghost, your dead brother, you and Rudy and all these lost souls, here in the basement, down here where the only sound is the humming of the phosphorescents, the only scent is the smell of dried blood and fingerprint dust, the smell of despair. Down here, well, none of this is looking good for you, Rudy and the way he smiles, the way he wraps his tongue around the hollow of your neck, the way he bears his teeth, really, Rudy says, “You’ll like him.” Rudy and his stupid magic tricks, your eyes are fluttering shut, but that’s only because you have these visions of blood in your head, you and your dangerous kink, Rudy says, “John Winchester, I mean. He’s a lot like you.” You and your heavy breathing, you say, He works for the police? You and your stupid sense of naïveté, Rudy laughs against your throat, his sharp teeth, your soft skin, and he says, “No.”

You and your stupid sense of innocence, you’re not the free one here, you’re not the one who gave his life to be free of regret and shame, to be free of moral obligations, you and your ethical boundaries, you’re not the enlightened one here. You and the way you just can’t let go of all of this, all this emotional baggage, all these people you hide behind, all these lives you immerse yourself in, down here with all these lost souls, you’re not the one who’s reached his goal in life, you’re not the one who’s hit rock bottom yet. Rudy and his ghostly hands drifting across your body, pressing hard, pressing solid, Rudy and his fingers, he says, “He’s a killer.” Your open mouth, you and the way you just can’t say no, Rudy says, “Just like you.”

And the funny thing is, now you know just who to ask about getting your life back.

***

It wasn’t easy to find him. You and Harry, he taught you everything you’ve ever known, all this police business, all this searching for clues, all these ways to look at the evidence, you and your father (“Fake father,” Rudy says, his hands, his mouth.), well, even he wouldn’t have been able to hunt down John Winchester. You track him like you track all your other kills, all your other victims, you look at the evidence, you follow the clues, you wade through the archives until you find more files, more disemboweled girls, until you find patterns. All these stupid detectives, all these lost souls, really, you’d think they could piece together a serial killer when they see one, you’d think they’d be able to pick up on the connection. Really, all these poor girls.

Rudy and his stupid magic tricks, he watches you with discomfort, with the unease of knowing why you’re doing this, why you care, Rudy and his pale skin, his red mouth, he watches you in silence. Rudy and the way that he just knows what’s gonna happen next, the way he just knows how this is gonna end, there’s nothing you can say to make this all better, there’s nothing you can say to keep from disappointing him a second time. You and Rudy and the way he’s just never gonna let you go, hey, really, you just want things to go back to normal, you just want to forget about all of this. Really, you just want to be able to let go, to be free.

Rudy and his stupid mouth, he’s not saying anything aloud, but you can hear him anyway, Rudy and his stupid looks, he’s saying, You’ll never be free, Dexter. Rudy and his stupid ideas of freedom, he’s saying, You’ll never be able to just walk away from this. You and your moral obligations, you and the code that Harry taught you, that your father taught you, no matter what Rudy says, no matter what Rudy does, you need this to be over, you need him to be gone. You and your dearly disturbed family, well, you just need to put all of this to rest, you just need to be able to move on. You and your stupid ideas of freedom, you just need John Winchester.

***

And, Rudy and his stupid mouth, he takes one look at him and says, “I thought he’d be a lot taller.” John Winchester and his two sons, they’re the kind of family you’ve been born in to, they’re the kind of family you could have had, hunting things, killing things, no real place in the world, they’re the kind of family Rudy’s been aching to give you. You and your stupid moral obligations, you open your mouth to ask them for help, you open your mouth to beg them to save you before you give in, before you become free just like your dead brother, but one of the boys beats you to it. Dean and his good looks, his innocent features, he goes, “Who’s the spook?”

You and your stupid crazy act, you’re saying, You can see him? You and your stupid sense of hope, you and your stupid expectations, you’re saying, Really? These Winchesters, they’re guarded in the way that they’re all wearing blank faces, that they’re all probably carrying an excessive amount of weapons, bloody and torn and weary from the fight they just had, from the demon or spirit or whatever they just slayed, they’re guarded in the way that they’re aware of who you really are. Rudy and his stupid magic tricks, you don’t know how they figured it out.

And the funny thing is, you and your secret identity, all this is such bullshit with Rudy here, all this could have turned out a lot worse. You and your stupid sense of optimism, you’re saying, I need your help. You and Rudy and all of this, you’re saying, I need my life back. These Winchester boys, this fucked up family, just like yours could have been, just like Rudy wanted it to be, you’re saying, I need him gone. And the funny thing is, Rudy just rolls his eyes and says, “Don’t be so delusional, little brother.” The two young boys, well, they’re looking at you like you’ve gone insane, and, hey, maybe they’re right, and, hey, maybe you really have, you’ve got a genetic disposition towards it, after all. And, hey, maybe you really have followed in your brother’s footsteps, and, hey, maybe you really have turned into your father’s worst nightmare, this crazy killer, this detached monster, maybe you really have turned into everything you’ve been fighting against, every victim of yours. Maybe with Rudy here, well, maybe this is just all part of the grand scheme of things, this universal plan, maybe it’s just time to give in to it, after all.

Rudy and these boys, well, you and your stupid sense of sanguinity, you’re saying, Please, you’re saying, Don’t let him hurt anyone else. You and your stupid sense of desperation, you’re saying, Don’t let him create any more victims. Rudy and his stupid mouth, his ghostly hands coming to rest on your shoulder, he’s stronger now than ever before, he’s stronger here than those nights in your bed, his soft touch, his brazen hands, he’s pulling you back towards him, he’s forcing you back against his chest. Rudy and his pale skin, almost transparent, almost translucent enough for you to see through him, Rudy and his stupid sense of desolation, he’s getting scared and that’s enough to make him even more dangerous, even more careless. These Winchester boys, these heroes, you and Rudy here, well, if they can’t fix this, you won’t know where to turn next, these boys, if they can’t help you, you don’t know what you’ll do. Rudy and his stupid sense of loneliness, he’s saying, “Don’t even think about it, Dexter.”

You and your stupid moral obligations, your stupid ethical boundaries, you’re saying, Please, you’re saying, Help me. And the funny thing is, John Winchester and his gruff looks, his rough voice, John Winchester and his boys, little Dean, little Sam, John Winchester and his fucked up family, and you, little dearly disturbed Dexter, well, there’s really no choice here. John Winchester and his stupid sense of honor, he says, “Okay.”

***

Rudy and his stupid mouth, he’s standing firm, withdrawn, standing in the crudely drawn circle in the middle of your floor, glaring with his ghostly eyes. You’re not quite so sure why he even let you do this to him, trick him into getting here, trick him into this devil’s trap, but you’re just grateful that he isn’t trying to talk you out of this anymore. This execution, this death sentence, all this finality, well, you can only hope. Rudy and his stupid magic tricks, he’s standing shock still in the quiet of your living room, the blinds drawn tight, the encompassing dark such a stark contrast to the hot Miami sun, you and Rudy here, you can almost forget what a monster he is. You and Rudy here, his pleading eyes, his stupid sense of despair, you can almost forget why you want him gone.

John Winchester and his boys, they’re gathering together weapons, they’re gathering together books and rock salt and drawing symbols on your floor with white chalk, chanting spells and reciting old Latin words that you barely know the meaning of. Rudy and his stupid mouth, he’s still not saying anything, still not accusing you or begging you to let him stay, Rudy and his crossed arms, he just simply is. You and Rudy here, John says something about sending the boys out to find his bones, to find Rudy’s bones and burn them, to banish him for good, and suddenly you’re regretting this whole thing. John and his stupid sense of intuition, he says, “I’ll stay here with you and watch him,” John and his stupid sense of instinct, he knows what you’re thinking, you and Rudy, here, he knows what you’ll do once you’re out of his sight. John and his stupid common sense, you don’t blame him.

Once the two boys leave, little Dean, little Sam, Rudy grows back his vocal chords. You and Rudy, you’re both just pawns in this whole thing, you’re both just so insignificant, and John says, “Don’t worry about it, this whole thing’ll be over soon.” You and Rudy and you’re stupid little fucked family, this whole fucked up thing, this whole mess, you never intended for any of this to happen, you never wanted to kill your brother. Twice. And Rudy says, “You don’t have to let him do this.” You and your stupid sense of moral obligation, your ties to the community, you say, Yes, I do. And Rudy says, “You could take him, Dex, you could let me go. You could finally be free.” Oh, Rudy and his stupid fucking tirade, you’re just so fucking sick of hearing this. Rudy and his mouth, he’s saying, “You gonna remember Biney after all of this, Dex? You gonna remember your big brother after you kill me?”

You and your stupid hero, John Winchester is looking at you like maybe he shouldn’t have gotten involved, like maybe he was never supposed to be here, and you say, Isn’t there a way to shut him up? You and your stupid sense of audacity, there’s only so much of this you can take. You and your stupid sense of family, your ethical boundaries, well, you might be a killer, but you could be a lot worse, you could be just like Rudy. John and his stupid sense of sympathy, you can read it in his eyes, and maybe Rudy was right, maybe he is a lot like you, maybe John Winchester does have a lot of the same attributes, a lot of the same characteristics, and maybe this is going the way it’s supposed to. Maybe this is your fate. You and your stupid sense of divine intervention, Rudy rolls his eyes and says, “You’re not even gonna wait until after I’m gone to fuck?”

You and John, there’s nothing right about any of this. You and John and this thing that connects you, this urge to fight the injustices of the world, to kill everyone – everything – that wrongs you, that harms innocents, every Rudy out there, well, there’s nothing that says you can’t indulge a little. Rudy and his overwhelming fear of being left behind, being left out of all of this, well, he’s saying, “It doesn’t take much to get over me, does it, Dexter?”

And you and your honesty, you stupid sense of sincerity, well, you say, I was never in to you in the first place.

John Winchester and his family, well, the funny thing is, you understand it now. You get it. This is a man fighting for something he’ll never be able to finish, fighting a war he’ll never see the end of. This is a man ready to die so his children, his children’s children, can live in peace, can live without fear of the monsters under their bed. This is a man who’s more than a hero, who’s everything that’s right in the world. You and your stupid conquests, your victims, well, you have a long way to go, you and your stupid little trophies, your blood-caked slides, but, hey, at least you’re on the right track.

And the funny thing is, Rudy and his stupid mouth, if he was pale before, he’s fading now. The pain that flickers across his face, you know why, you know what’s happening, little Dean, little Sam, they must have found the bones, they must have lit them, because Rudy’s mouth, pale pink and getting paler by the minute, Rudy and his stupid mouth, it’s open in a silent scream. Rudy and his stupid fucking ideas of freedom, well, he’s got it now, he’s finally going to experience what real freedom is, what existence is all about, and you and your stupid sense of family, it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to watch. The funny thing is, this is unbearable. John Winchester and his hand on your shoulder, he’s only touching you to keep you from running to him, from erasing the circle and letting him escape, from letting him go, but it’s more than that, it’s got to be, his firm hand, and the tears in your eyes, this is worse than killing your brother the first time, this is worse than slitting his throat.

The funny thing is, there’s no blood. Your livelihood, your stupid fucking kink, there’s just Rudy and his silent scream and the pain on his face, the pale skin slowly fading away, slowly disappearing. The funny thing is, Rudy and his mouth, you’re the one crying so hard you can’t breathe, you’re the one reaching out to save him one last time. Rudy and his dark eyes, no, he’s not a trophy, and no, you won’t ever be able to forget him, his stupid ideas, his reign of terror, you and your stupid moral obligations, no, you won’t ever be able to let him go, you won’t ever be free.

Rudy and his death, it’s quiet and clean and nothing like the first time, nothing like any of your other kills. Rudy and his beautiful mouth, he’s saying, “I love you,” and you and your stupid sense of honor, you don’t even have the strength to call him Biney.


End file.
